


A Private Ball

by CannibalKats



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Aiofe Lavellan, F/M, Fluff and Smut, NSFW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 08:05:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3888697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CannibalKats/pseuds/CannibalKats
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the Winter Palace Cullen surprises Aiofe with a private ball.  Fluff and smut.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Private Ball

                The dress was what woke her, or rather the giggling advisors behind the dress. She sighed and pulled the blankets over her head. “I fought a dragon yesterday,” she groaned from beneath the blankets, “it was big and breathed lightening, _lightening_ , from its mouth. I killed it.” She inhaled deeply as one of the women pulled the blankets away from her.

                It’s a gift, Inquisitor,” her spymaster smiled.

                “I haven’t even bathed yet, unless you count that river Sera pushed me into,” she stretched and crinkled her nose, “which you probably shouldn’t. Honestly you should probably have this bedding burned.”

                “it was specially commissioned for you, Lady Lavellan,” Josephine added. “The clasps are dragon bone, as is the mask, carved from Vinsomer.”

                “Leave the mask, it should come in handy when the Orlesians are visiting. Send the dress back, make suitable apologies, blame my heathen savage Dalish breeding. If anyone thinks I’ll be attending another ball so soon after that fiasco at the winter palace,” she rolled her eyes.

                “Send it back?” Josephine and Lilianna echoed.

                “It’s beautiful, don’t get me wrong, and under other circumstances appreciated but I think I have enough beautiful useless things.”

                Lilianna hid a smile behind her hand and Josephine frowned. “Cullen will be very disappointed of course, but as you say Inquisitor.”

                Aiofe sat up, “Cullen,” she rubbed her eyes while her advisors shared a glance. “Has he seen it?”

                “It was a gift from him, Inquisitor.”

                Aiofe stopped shovelling day old bread into her mouth. “A gift from Cullen,” she said around the dry mouthful, “he bought me a dress?”

                “Yes, he had it commissioned from the seamstress who made Celene’s gown,” Josie beamed, obviously she’d been involved in the decision. “There’s a message also.”

                “From the seamstress?”

                “From Cullen.”

                                                                               -----

                Cullen hadn’t heard from anyone all day. The Inquisitor had briefly stopped by for a brief but enthusiastic post dragon hunting kiss before dragging herself off to bed. The residents of Skyhold were already gossiping. The Inquisitor had been whisked to the baths and Handmaidens had been brought in from the Free Marches.

                The troops complained that the kitchen staff was too busy to serve more than porridge for breakfast. He smiled to himself when they wondered who might be meeting with Lady Lavellan. Most people put their coin on a Tevinter dignitary, considering the secrecy, but Arishock came in a close second.

Some whispered about a lover from the Winter Palace, Gaspard perhaps, or Briala, while shooting him sad smiles of condolence. People knew about them of course. Nothing stayed secret for long in Skyhold and Inquisitor Lavellan was not burdened with an abundance of discretion.

Varric smirked at him from the door way. “the way you’re smiling at those reports you’d think someone slipped you a preview, Curly.”

Cullen jumped and scattered the small pile of reports he’d been working on.

“Calm down they’re still primping, wouldn’t even let me in for a pep-talk.”

“Interview you mean.”

“Research,” The dwarf shrugged. “Don’t worry, Curly, my people have her covered.”

It was a strangely reassuring statement. Cullen nodded at the Dwarf as he left in the direction of the tavern.

                                                          -------------

Aiofe had been scrubbed, buffed, primed, and painted. Vivienne had made a brief appearance to supervise he makeup and secure her mask. A perpetually irritated dwarf had brushed, oiled and twisted her hair, weaving gems and gold dust into it until she thought she could probably kill a giant without disturbing a single strand.

She’d heard Varric, Dorian and Bull turned away at the stairs, and Sera was shooed out of the rafters. Krem had been brought in to make adjustments to the gown. Followed moments later by the Iron Bull, again, insisting that he was assistant to Mr. Aclassi. A string of playful insults from Krem sent him on his way.

“Orlesian tailors are adequate, Your Worship,” he said around a mouthful of pins. “Course the way you look in this dress your Commander won’t care which stitch is holding what in place.” The Mercenary winked at her and she found herself blushing. Cullen may voice the occaisional insecurity regarding The Iron Bull but the only Charger she’d ever had an interest in was Krem.

While Krem finished with thehemming and Lillianna made a last ditch effort to talk her into a pair of pretty but uncomfortable shoes, Aiofe watched cooks and porters bring in plates of her favourite treats. She saw Petite Fours, quiches, and small stuffed fowls. Along with some Dalish treats she hadn’t seen since before the conclave; leaves stuffed with ground venison and herbs, crispy soft shelled crabs.

_How long had he been planning this?_

Before she knew it everyone had gone and she was left alone in her room. At least it had been her room, it looked more like a miniature banquet hall now. She didn’t know what to do with herself while she waited for Cullen. Could she try the food? Should she wait? She went to the balcony and tried to see Cullen leaving his tower but she couldn’t tell if he’d even left yet.

She laughed and leaned over the balcony for a better view of the courtyard. Humming to herself and imagining Cullen as he planned all this for her. She was so lost in her imaginings that she didn’t notice him until he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her back inside. He was smiling like the cat that ate the Canary when she turned to greet him.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered. “I mean the dress, it fits, uh..well.”

She grinned widely at him in his Formal Uniform while he stumbled over his compliment.

“I’m ruining it,” he sighed and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Of course you aren’t,” she laughed. “Look at this,” she gestured t the transformation of her room. “You put this together, organised my friend, bribed a few of them I bet, there is no way you could say anything to sour this.   Unlike myself, I woke up and tried to return the dress.”

His face fell. “Return it? You don’t like it? It’s too much right? I told Josephine it was too much.”

“It’s perfect you idiot! Everything is perfect. I thought it was a gift from some ridiculous Comte or Marquis, another pretty thing I don’t have the time to enjoy.”

“You said you were disappointed that you didn’t have time to enjoy the winter palace, I wanted to bring the best parts to you.”

“The food and the clothes?”

“Iron Bull told me what you’d liked most, Varric told me your favourite foods, he even had recipes from maker knows where.”

“I’m not the only Dalish he knows Cullen, I’m not even the only one in Skyhold.”

He blushed and she laughed.

“Josephine and Lilianna get the credit for the gown, I have no head for fashion. They found a seamstress, I just made sure it was blue, I know you like blue.”

“I should kiss you but I’m afraid this mask might actually be a weapon. I can’t believe I thought wearing it would be a good idea.” She fumbled with the clasp.

Cullen untangled her fingers from her hair and unfastened the mask from the woven gems, she stood on her toes and kissed him quickly as soon as he’d pulled the mask away,

“Thank you,” she laughed. “I thought it would be cute but I’m starting to think the Orlesians wear them because they’re trapped inside them.” She snorted at her own joke.

“I’ve one more surprise,” Cullen reached into his jacket and produced a small crystal. “Dagna’s been working to recreate Calpernia’s crystal device. She gave me this one when she found out what I was planning.” He placed it on her desk and fiddled with it until she heard a familiar melody began to play. “I assume my dancing in Halamshiral didn’t sour you on the idea.”

“Of course not.”

“Your advisors tried to improve my form but I’m afraid I’m a terrible student.”

“It’s just as well, I hate for you to realize how terrible I am.”

“I’m sorry, perhaps I should have our bard recount your dance with the dutchess?” He laughed pulling her close to him. “They’re still talking about it in Val Royeaux.”

“She let me lead,” she blushed, “I’m good at that, it’s why you made me Inquisitor.”

He made to dip her and she stepped on his foot, he almost dropped her and the both laughed.

“Yes, rumours of your skill leading the remmigold were exactly what garnered my support in the first place Inquisitor Lavellan.”

She frowned and he pulled her close. His chuckle rumbled as she rested her head on his chest. “you know,” she murmured, looking up at him.

“Yes?”

“Calpernia’s crystal worked both ways.”

“You don’t think?”

“That our spymaster might _spy_ on us?” Aiofe raised an eyebrow at him.

“Of course not,” he chuckled. “She has no reason to.” He picked up the crystal from her desk, walked over to the balcony and dropped it. “Opps.”

“What will we do now?” She asked feigning innocence.

“Well, there is the food,” Cullen smirked.

She grabbed the collar of his jacket and pulled him towards her.

“I hear you killed a dragon on the Storm Coast,” he said casually as she covered his mouth in a kiss, her teeth grazing his lower lips as he laughed. She growled and pulled his Jacket over his shoulders trapping his arms behind him.

“Would you like me to tell you about it?” She smiled into his neck and didn’t wait for him to answer. “It’s all about controlling the field.” She pulled his trapped arms for emphasis and steered him towards her bedpost.

“She was much larger than you, certainly she had an advantage.”

Aiofe dropped his hands and started laughing, he sat on the bed in front of her and chuckled.

“This is so bad,” she snorted.

“Ridiculous,” he laughed.

“I’d sit with you but I’m not sure I can bend over.”

“I’m so sorry,” Cullen laughed and rubbed at his neck.

“No, it’s beautiful; I just suddenly understand the lack of chairs in the winter palace.”

He reached for her hips and pulled her into a hug, resting his head against her stomach. She absently ran her fingers thought his hair as their laughter subsided. She could sense how reluctant her was to break the embrace when he stood and walked around her eyeing the dress in the same fashion as she’d seen him stare at battle plans. He kissed her forehead and grasped her waist to sping her. Before she could question him she felt his fingers release the first of the clasps on her bodice.

“I thought when you mentioned the gowns at the Winter Palace this would be a romantic gesture. A private Ball for us, complete with dress code.” She watched his reflection in the window, his brow drawn in concentration while his nimble fingers released each tiny hidden hook.

“I love it, Cullen, really. Don’t be so hard on yourself it’s beautiful and unexpected and extremely thoughtful. There were never dresses like this in my clan. I’ve never worn something this exquisite.”

“It was silly of me,” he said, his face hidden in her hair.

“It’s not silly.”

“Foolish,” he interrupted. “To spend so much money on a thing when all I’ve been able to think about since the moment I saw you on the balcony is getting you out of it.” The bodice dropped to the ground and he tucked her hair over her shoulder and kissed her neck. “Maker help me, how many layers does this thing have?”

Aiofe laughed. “Vivienne called that a cincher, it’s horrible, I had to hold onto a bedpost and I swear she used force magic to tighten it.”

“You won’t mind if I ruin it then?” He retrieved a dagger from her desk. She threw back her head and laughed as he ran the knife through the laces. With the cincher vanquished she slipped a finger into the ribbon holding holding the skirts on her hips and pulled it loose. Cullen’s breath caught in his throat as she stepped out of them in only a sheer silk slip.

She reached for his belt and began to remove it. “Is this more to your liking Commander?”

He slid the loose straps of the shift off of her shoulder and trailed kisses up her neck that made her shiver and fumble with the sash. Cullen caught her mouth in a kiss and helped with the buttons. He sat on the bed and fumbled with his tall boots while she unbuttoned his shirt, running her tongue along the length of his ear. She was in his lap before he’d gotten to his pants. Straddling him she took his face in her hands and smiled.

“It’s not often I see you from this angle.”

He blushed. “I feel as though I’m always gazing up at you.”

She kissed him again. It was slow, her tongue teasing his, teeth grazing her lip. His hands on her back through the thin silk trailing down to grasp her ass as his tongue darted into her mouth. She sighed into his mouth as his fingers caressed her sex through the silk. Her hips twitched with anticipation. She reached between them and unbuttoned his trousers while he worked the slip up over her hips.

“Inquisitor,” he gasped in mock horror. “You’re not wearing any small clothes.”

“It took four people to get me into that thing, I wasn’t confident that a single templar could get me out of it.” She reached between them and drew him out of his pants. “You don’t like it?”

He growled and threw her onto the bed beneath him. He bent to take her nipple into his mouth, his hand caressing her other breast rolling her nipple between his fingers as his tongue teased circles around the sensitive skin. She arched into him and he moved to trail kisses down her soft belly.

She tangled her fingers in his hair as he kissed and nipped the tender flesh of her thighs. His fingers tracing her slit before teasing her clit with his tongue. Her head fell back against the bed and she purred with the pleasure.

She forced herself to watch as he worked her core with his tongue, slipping a finger into her. She moaned as her hips bucked against him. Watching as he reached to work himself fingers still slick with her lust. The idea of him touching himself bringing her even closer to the edge.

She pushed herself up on one elbow and reached for his face. “Enough of that.”

He obliged and she sat forward to kiss him, tasting herself on his lips as she grasped his cock in her hand; his moan hitching in his throat as she used her other hand to push him onto the bed. She bent over him and ran her tongue up the length of his shaft.

He shuddered as she swirled her tongue around the tip of his cock and felt his hands tangle in the hair at the base of her neck. She dug her nails into his hips and took him into her mouth. A few shallow strokes at first, teasing the tip with her tongue before she pushed down groaning when his fingers pulled her hair, her tongue working the shaft and she stroked him with her lips.

She looked up at him, he was moaning softly, his eyes closed. She ran ger tongue up the length of his cock one final time before she moved to straddle him. She brushed his hair out of his face and covered it in kisses. His hands ran up and down her body, caressing her breasts, lightly slapping her ass before squeezing her ass and rubbing his cock along her sex.

“Please,” she whispered, his teeth teased her neck and she felt him smile against the tender skin.

“Please what?” His voice was too thick to sound playful.

“Fuck me,” she moaned rolling her hips, desperate for contact. He lifted her holding her hips above him and thrusting into her. The both gasped as she settled over him.

“Creators, yes,” she cried out bracing her hand on his chest and rolling her hips.

His hands clung to her hips in an attempt to control her pace. He looked up at her, the Dalish goddess who’d conquered the templar. She cupped her breast and ran a hand through her tangled hair. She cried praises and curses to gods he’d never heard of falling forward against his chest, hips still pumping against him planting sloppy frantic kisses along his collar bone.

He held her tightly, one arm around her back and rolled on top of her taking control. She let out a gleeful shriek. “Gods yes,” she cried and dug her nails into his back.

He took both her hands in one of his and kissed her wrists before pinning them above her head. Her ankles clasped behind his back as he thrust into her meeting demands of harder and harder until he was sure she would shatter from the force.

He let go of her hands and she pulled him into a kiss. “Aiofe,” he pleaded.

“Me too,” she breathed.

They cried out to their own gods as they came together, panting and laughing in her bed.

“I suppose we should eat some of this,” she snickered wrapping herself in the bed sheet and retrieving a tray of tiny cakes.

 

 


End file.
